


Head Over Heels

by Auggusst



Series: Alternate Universes [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Flirting, Fluff, High School, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Teenagers, and he had it backfire on him and make everyone think he was a slut, steve is the captain of the baseball team, tony has been taken advantage of in the past, tony is a loner, yes sexually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: Steve and Tony, high school seniors, flirt a little more than necessary in the back of their history classroom.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Alternate Universes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703173
Comments: 24
Kudos: 255





	Head Over Heels

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt from an unfinished STony High School AU draft I wrote back in 2015. I pulled out the best scene and rewrote it/cleaned it up after someone expressed interest on twitter! Hope you like it!

Steve's saving grace came when there was a project assigned in history. Partners were selected alphabetically, for the most part. Most of the students were either best friends or couples, and some elected to work alone, so when Steve's name was called, his blue eyes turned to meet brown and he said, "I pick Tony."

The brunet, sat at the back of the classroom, seeming disinterested, gave him a look that was a cross between surprise, delight and dread. It was easy to pretend that the dread came from the project, and not the prospect of working together, of getting closer how Steve liked. But there was no mistaking it; the statement had caught Tony off guard.

Apparently it was to be a long, detailed project, because they were given a month to do it. The parameters were kind of rough, but manageable, and would allow for plenty of time together. The two were given the topic of propaganda in WWII, and its effects on the war, which Steve was okay with. Tony hated history in general, so he couldn’t give two shits about the topic, and was resigned to suffer through it. He put on his best poker face though, despite the way his heart was pounding since Steve had called his name, and feigned relaxation in his seat. He made no move to get up.

Once the teacher set them loose, Steve gathered his things and moved back and sat by the empty desk next to Tony. He was fine with taking the first step. Hell, he’d taken _all_ the first steps so far, from that afternoon he’d accidentally pushed Tony into his own locker while walking down the hall. That had been the true start to all of this, with the following conversation leaving Steve thinking about Tony, day and night, and leaving him wanting to get to know him better.

When Steve set down his supplies, the brunet was smirking, and it made his heart skip a beat. He wanted to say something, but his mouth felt full of sand. His fingers drummed against the surface of his desk anxiously.

"You know history isn't my best, Rogers," Tony said though, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. His gaze was full of scrutiny, but also held a hint of reverence, Steve thought. "So why'd you pick me?" Tony inquired, suspicion in his tone. 

Steve couldn’t keep himself from scoffing a little. Did Tony really think he’d been picked because of some kind of advantage, because of a chance at a better grade? Hadn’t Steve’s casual conversations, his insistence on getting closer over the last few weeks been enough to convince Tony his intentions were earnest? Apparently not, and that stung a little, but Steve let it go. From what he understood, Tony had been burned and spurned several times over, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he’d be wary of getting close to others.

"I didn't pick you because you're _good_ , Tony, I picked you because you're you, and I wanted to pick you," the blond replied.

Despite himself, Tony could feel his face flushing. He’d always been a fool for pretty words. He drove down the lump in his throat, the butterflies the simple statement had set in his stomach, and cleared his throat. 

"Right...” he started. Steve’s words were surprisingly easy to take to heart. Maybe it was his golden boy reputation, or the warmth in those blue eyes, but something about Steve made it easy for Tony to surrender, to relax a little. “So when do we start? And what are we doing? You lead on this project. I can pay for things, throw it all together and make it look cool," the brunet offered.

"We can start today, if you want. It's not baseball season so I'm free," Steve replied with a shrug. His shoulders looked ridiculously good doing it, the defined muscle in them, broader than strictly necessary for a baseball player(he was sure Steve had heard at least a thousand times that he should play football instead) but plenty broad enough to take Tony’s breath away, to make him want to run his hands over his skin, to feel the weight of his body beneath them.

Tony sighed, and covered his face with his hands for a moment, preparing himself mentally. Something told him that nothing about this project, or anything happening right now would be easy, and that he should turn tail and run, but he’d already agreed to it, and quite honestly, wasn’t sure Steve would take no for an answer. Wouldn’t be the first time Tony’s protests had been met with disregard. 

But it wasn’t fair to assume. Every interaction he’d had with Steve so far had shown him to be genuinely caring, to be interested in Tony, in more ways than one, and that had him feeling some type of way. Should he run with it, or distance himself before it got out of hand? Tony wasn’t sure.

He exhaled in the cover of his hands, tried settling his scrambling brain. _‘What the hell?’_ he decided, making up his mind after a few moments. His fingers twitched against his face. Once he removed them, he leaned forward and spoke.

"How about tomorrow?" Tony asked finally. "I need time to get my bearings, put on my best clothes." He flashed Steve another smirk, his ‘Play with me’ smirk, and looked up at him through his lashes. That trick tended to get him where he wanted to be, in any situation, (until it _didn’t_ , his hindbrain unhelpfully supplied, thinking of all the mistakes in the past) and he was curious of how Steve would take it, if he’d like it, if he’d want more, or if Tony was deluding himself into thinking he knew how the blond felt.

The change in behavior was so sudden that it made a spark leap in Steve's chest, made him feel breathless and nervous and excited all at once. Despite himself, the blond leaned forward, almost as if gravity was pulling him into those deep, brown eyes. God, Tony’s eyes were gorgeous. They struck Steve again and again, every time he saw the brunet, made something heavy and warm settle in his chest that was kind of overwhelming. It was difficult to speak for a moment. Steve had to make sure he was right about all of this, and what was happening right now. Tony clearly seemed interested, but was he really? Did he care about Steve or was he just having fun with him, like he’d heard from other people? Steve wasn’t sure, but he was willing to take a chance. 

It took a minute to gather himself, but when he did, he spoke confidently. "Well then, you better look your best. I like you pretty. Don't disappoint me," He replied, the ends of his lips turned up at the fact that he’d brought himself to say something so candid.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Steve," Tony replied, voice low, kind of wispy but smooth, and music to Steve’s ears. His posture seemed normal enough, bent a little in Steve’s direction, but there was a seductive tilt to his head, and an intensity in his gaze that made Steve want to devour him.

"Good. Maybe I'll get dressed up too then. Just for you," Steve stated, eyes roaming over the brunet's face, drinking in every detail. They settled on his plush lips, the way the brunet worried them with his teeth, the pink tongue that peeked out to wet them. God, Steve wanted to kiss him so bad it hurt.

Tony wanted that too. Steve was a lot more confident than he’d been anticipating, but there was a hesitant edge to it, like he was nervous or too embarrassed to say what he was thinking, and it set a fire in the brunet’s veins. Steve was gorgeous as always, but here, leaning in, his face a little red, and such pretty words coming from his mouth, Tony thought he must have been an angel, or a demon, sent from another plane of existence to torture him. He could feel his own breath getting a little shaky despite himself, a thousand possibilities and risks floating around in his head. 

"I bet you look great dressed up. A nice collared shirt, sleeves rolled up, muscles bulging... Bet they’d line up for miles to get a chance to get in your pants," Tony said before he could stop himself. Maybe it was taking it a little far, but then again, everyone knew he had a reputation for flirting, for being a slut, despite the fact he’d only been with three people, two of which had viscerally betrayed him. Tony’s reputation was beyond repair, but Steve didn’t seem to mind, seemed to like him anyway, and Tony selfishly wanted that validation, that attention.

What was the danger in being a little loose with his words? The danger, perhaps, was that he meant every word, and wanted to say many more, wanted to admit that in the month they’d gotten closer he noticed more and more about Steve, found himself thinking about him constantly. Maybe it wasn’t right to do all of this, to say the things he was saying, to _flirt_ so blatantly, but he didn't stop. He was enjoying this too much, got a rush from it that made his skin warm and heart ache in a way he hadn’t felt for months. Steve was just too much. All of this was.

The blond was clearly handling it better than he was. Except for the deep red on his cheeks, he seemed to be comfortable, if not a little giddy, and he leaned in a little closer. "You would probably look better," he replied, laughing softly.

He wasn’t sure why he laughed. Was it out of happiness, or fear, or something else? The answer was a little unclear even to himself. He felt…good, in a way he wasn’t familiar with. This was the most interesting conversation he’d had with Tony yet, mainly because of the possibilities, and the obvious attraction between the two of them. God, he just wanted to dive right into Tony, to hold him close and ravish him. The things he was saying were so exciting, so _suggestive_ , and he wasn’t even talking dirty. _Did_ Tony talk dirty? He had to. With a mouth like that, which routinely outsmarted their instructors and read off complicated formulas with ease, he had to. Steve wanted to find out.

The sound of Steve’s laughter, timid but relaxed at the same time, was music to the Tony's ears. He couldn’t fight a smile of his own, and knew it was a little dreamy, kind of stupid, like every time he got a real crush on someone. His cheeks were warm and his heart seemed to be leaping out of his chest, but he loved it. He loved this, with Steve specifically, even though it was kind of abrupt, a 180 from their casual, if not distant friendship. God, how fucked was he?

"Think so, Rogers?" Tony mused, his voice smooth and pleased. He couldn't help himself from giving the blond a wink, hoping that it wasn’t a step too far, afraid that the blond would suddenly change his mind, or reveal that he’d been joking all along, and that this was all another cruel trap Tony had willingly walked into. "I'll make extra sure not to disappoint you, then," he said nonetheless, and he meant it.

"Good," Steve replied.

"Great," Tony echoed.

There was a moment of suspension, where the two simply looked at each other, heads close. Both wanted to say more, or do more, but there was nothing to say or do. Well, that was a lie, there were plenty of things Tony _wanted_ to do, and many things that Steve wanted to do to him in return, _with_ him. 

Steve found his gaze sweeping over Tony’s form once again, imagined slipping his hands around that slim waist and pulling him close, feeling the warmth of his tanned skin and the planes of his body, and Tony imagined wrapping a hand around Steve's strong neck and pulling him down for a heated kiss, opening his mouth with it, letting his tongue dart out between his teeth to explore the cavern of the blond’s pretty pink lips. If he thought about it long enough, he’d get hard, and he was sure Steve felt the same, a deep rooted intensity taking hold in him, in both of them, which left him breathless and _feeling_ in a capacity far beyond his years.

They were close. They were _really_ close. Here, Tony could see the flecks of green in the blue of Steve’s eyes, the barely-there freckle or two on his peachy skin, could feel the warmth radiating from his body even though they weren’t touching. Steve could count the lashes around Tony’s eyes, could memorize the exact shade of the sleep-deprived bags under them, trace the curve of Tony’s cheeks with his gaze. He couldn’t exactly think anymore, stuck between a rock and a hard place, mentally. He wanted to lean forward. He wanted to close that distance, to take all of this over the last hurdle, and to stake his claim(if he had any.) He was floating and falling on a rollercoaster that he never wanted to get off.

Tony didn’t want to get off either. He’d been swept up already, far beyond what he was comfortable with, emotionally, but he didn’t want to stop now. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a diving board, and all he had to do was take the leap into the cool, deep waters below, deep and blue (like Steve’s eyes), but something was holding him back. He was afraid of drowning, like the last time, and was afraid he wouldn’t be able to claw his way back to the surface again. 

He sat there, inches from Steve, caught in a feedback loop, and couldn’t seem to break out of it.

The bell rang then, signaling the end of class, and abruptly, the loop was cut off, and the two were left crashing back down to earth, to reality. They were in a classroom, with plenty of other people, some who no doubt had taken an interest in their bizarre conversation. They were a little dazed, left blinking for a moment and drawing back, noticing how close they really were. It was too close to pretend anything less than what happened had happened.

Steve stood and cleared his throat, got out of his chair a little quicker than probably looked normal. He felt some eyes on him, and wondered how much the rest of the class had heard, if anything, and suddenly felt exposed. He could feel the heat on his cheeks crawl down his neck, and wondered where his confidence had gone, if Tony had stolen it all, alongside his heart. He cleared his throat, and picked up his things.

Tony took a deep breath beside him, brushed a hand through his dark hair to settle himself, and did the same. His fingers shook a little around the straps of his messenger bag, but he ignored it. He needed time to think, to process everything he’d just said and done and imagined, and to really weigh the risks. Something had started here, in the back of their goddamn history classroom, and he wasn’t sure where it would lead him.

Steve flashed him a hopeful look though, and the knot of terror that had begun to settle in Tony’s stomach eased a little, and he hated himself for it. He hated how easy Steve was taking all of this, was making it all, and that Tony’s heart seemed more than willing to go along with it.

Tony really needed a nap.

He took a few steps forward, let his hand just _barely_ graze Steve’s elbow, although he wanted to touch a lot more, to _see_ a lot more, said "See you tomorrow, big guy," and walked out of the classroom.

Steve lingered there a moment or two, his elbow tingling and head swimming, dizzy with elation, and headed to lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Leave a comment!!


End file.
